Sunday, December 9, 2012

Yea, Though I Walk

If I could lose this loss
By stealth or wealth or any way...
If raging, sounding winds could toss
At end of day,
This heavy void as if there were no cost,

Then I would count none lost.
But there is so much more to this:
I, miser, clutch at my pathos;
Abandoned bliss
Becomes the Desert That I Cannot Cross.

In Valley I am lost;
The blowing sands obscure my view.
The hole I hoard becomes my cross --
My crucifix.
I worship now the sorrow that was you.

This form poem was suggested by a Dante Gabriel Rossetti poem and encouraged by Imaginary Gardens for Real Toads on December 1. I've been wandering through this particular desert for a week or so. Better late than never...I think!

This is a spectacularly poignant write about sorrow. One feels the scope and breadth of it. Especially powerful "Abandoned bliss becomes the Desert I Cannot Cross" and " I worship now the sorrow that was you." This captures grief so well - how one holds onto the pain so as to keep the loved one close longer. Very beautiful writing, and the photo is wonderful too.

A fabulous use of enjambment makes this all the moe powerful. The rhymes add a layer of interest. You allow your reader to feel the inability to release that which is not serving, despite an awareness of the situation.

Please be polite!

Poetry Jam

imaginary gardens with real toads

C'est moi

Secret No More

...there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own, that kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper into the world, determined to do the only thing you could do -- determined to save the only life you could save." — Mary Oliver